Mighty Avengers
by scarletspyder
Summary: AU- Young Avengers, freshly orphaned Tony Stark wants a hockey team, this might be a little more than Phil can handle. Tony finds teammates to escape his loss and they are all as dysfunctional as he is. Loosely based on the Mighty Ducks with Avengers characters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers and the usual disclaimers.

Phil Coulson fidgeted in his seat. He had a spotless record, cleaner than the inside of a whistle yet he was called to report to the Director himself today. Only vagrants and never-do-wells were summoned by the Director in order to give them a month's compensation to leave the agency. He was never a screw up like that rat Sitwell or the clearly unhinged Armin Zola but he might have imitated Fury's "Matrix-nostalgic" walk in the lunchroom a couple of weeks back. Or perhaps it was because he startled Hill while she was in target practice by tapping on her shoulder, making her break her bullseye streak. Regardless of the reason, he was here now like many before him. His sweaty palms did nothing to alleviate the situation. He considered wiping it on Fury's chair as he was clearly about to be booted off anyway, why not get off with a bang in the form of a sweaty handprint that he will never notice and will probably stay there for god knows how long? It will stay there for a year or two, patting the Director on the back as if to say 'you let go of a nice man, Fury, what have you done?'

"Agent Coulson."

Phil jumped out of his seat as an eye patch loomed before him. Was he talking out loud? "Director Fury, I can explain," he began praying to the gods for forgiveness for whatever it is that he had done wrong.

"Stop acting constipated, Agent. You were summoned here because-"

"It was a good impression, Director, believe me. I took acting classes in university. Imitation is the highest form of flattery!" he stuttered before the other man could get a word in.

Nick's eyebrows rose. "Howard Stark and his wife were murdered less than two hours ago."

It took a moment for Phil to comprehend what Fury was saying. "Howard Stark of-"

"Stark Industries." The Director went on with a grim expression "founder of this very agency."

"Murdered?" Phil repeated in disbelief. "By whom?"

"We don't know yet, Coulson. Evidence points to foul play but for the public, the cause of death was a car crash, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." Phil snapped to professional mode.

"The reason I'm telling you all this is because I need you to do something."

Coulson held his breath. To think a moment ago he thought that he would be gone forever, ka-put, jobless, eating ice cream in front of his barely-used television set mourning the one thing he ever knew how to do and here he was in Director Fury's confidence, his secret circle!

"Anthony Stark, only son and heir of Stark industries, currently twelve years old is left in the care of his butler and trusted aide, Jarvis. Now I know that this might seem absurd-"

"I can assure you, Director that I will succeed!"

"His only extracurricular at the moment that he seems interested in is hockey."

"I'm sorry Director, I didn't quite catch you, did you say hockey?"

Fury cleared his throat. "Yes, Agent. Now if you would stop interrupting me, let's continue this conversation."

Phil blinked twice. "I'm no professional player but I did play for my junior varsity team."

"Coulson." Fury levelled with him with his one good eye. "Anthony has little friends, he alienates every kid on the block with his eccentric persona. He wants to play hockey, form a team, guide him."

"Sir?" Phil stammered. "You are asking me to be a babysitter?"

"Coulson, remember your first day on the job? The time when you thought you'd never amount to anything?"

"Very clearly Sir. Hill was wearing that fabulous off shoulder black dress, I couldn't for the life of me have expected that she could carry herself with an air of femininity! In Vino Veritas, indeed."

"Probae esti in segetem sunt deteriorem datae fruges, tamen ipsea suaptae enitent." (a good seed, planted in poor soil will bear rich fruit according to its nature)

That was a low blow and he knew it. His father's dying words as he expressed his wish for him to be a morally upstanding citizen one day. Another faceless victim of a drive-by shooting for the cops, another homicide for the lawyers but to Phil it meant the end of his childhood. Phil's throat tightened. "Yes Sir, I remember telling you that and it clearly is being used against me right now for emotional blackmail."

Fury softened. "This is not blackmail, Coulson. We owe a lot to Stark, if it weren't for him, we would have gone to another war. Now that he's gone, we need to make sure that Anthony Stark gets the proper guidance and support to mature into a conscientious citizen not driven mad by abandonment."

Phil sighed. He understood. "Not to be annoying, Director but I think you misread the quote its-"

"I know what it means, Agent. Keep him out of bad soil because he's been through enough."

"Yes, Director." Phil fixed his tie. "When do I start?"

"You start today, your bags are packed, the limo is waiting, you'll be living with Anthony and Jarvis until further notice."

"Sir, how long is this mission?"

Fury patted him on his back. This was bad, Fury never does that unless agents sign up for a suicide mission. Phil had chils down his spine. "As long as it takes, Coulson. I'll be in touch."

"Sir-" Did they pack his toothbrush? He preferred the soft bristles.

"Oh by the way, Coulson. You still haven't got that Fury-swag."

Phil sighed. This was going to be a long one.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil arrived at the Stark Mansion as they were quietly tucking in for the night. Jarvis met him by the door in a sombre mood as was understandable due to the recent passing of the elder Starks.

"Master Tony is waiting for you, Mr. Coulson."

Phil brushed his hair back- or what was left of it anyway. He put on a serious expression, the kid probably wanted to talk. He could do that, he could be called Doctor Phil, child psychologist extraordinaire. He followed Jarvis to long winding hallways until they reached a heavy-looking set of double doors. "Master Tony" Jarvis called. "Mr. Coulson is here. I believe he can help you."

A sudden patter of feet and an enthusiastic door swing later, he was face to face with Anthony Stark, twelve year old billionaire. "Thank you, Jarvis." It looked like the kid hadn't been sleeping. His hair was a mess and so is his desk, filled with papers, folders, scattered pens and computers whirring to life.

"Please pardon Mr. Stark" Jarvis whispered. "He has been upset and this is how he deals with things."

"Noted." Phil replied.

"I heard you can help me with my hockey team." Tony handed him a stack of folders. "Here."

"Anthony, I can see that you're jumping quickly to this."

"Tut-tut Mr. Coulson, may I call you Phil? Yes, Phil sounds better, less formal. Call me Tony, I insist. Listen Phil, thank you for your concern, but I don't want to hear it. People live and it is only natural that they must die someday. Yes, it is tragic but that is the course of life. I'll mourn later, in private, with ben and jerry's and Oprah but now let's work this- ok?"

That boy had his own charm about him. "Ok, Tony."

"Hockey consists of six players on ice, these are the people I have personally scoured the globe for. Numero uno- Natalia Alianova Romanova also known as Natasha Romanoff or maybe Natalie Rushman." He pointed to the photo on file as the computers flashed various images of her onscreen.

"Is this a family tree?"

"Yes, an accurate one at that. She is directly descended from the Romanovs hence the secrecy, the missing corpse was not a hoax, the White Army spared Alexei blah blah blah the fall of the Russian Empire happened, they lost, eventually but they kept this little imp."

"How did you get this information, Tony?" Phil was astounded.

"Oh one thing about me, I'm a genius. Thank you very much. Now, moving on, this critter was born into the Black Widow program, trained to be the best in everything to match the changing of the times. So in underpopulated Russia, with a population this versatile, they won't starve or the economy won't collapse."

"This is classified information."

"I know. I just declassified it for your eyes only- and Jarvis too, so don't go selling my secrets."

Tony was really something else.

"So, this kid, Black Widow, she's the best of the best, she won a couple of medals in the Olympics before officials busted her for her age and disqualified her. But everything, math competitions, chess USSR VS the world stuff- she's got it."

"How are we going to get her?" Phil asked out loud. "I don't think she would go willingly."

"Oh she will." Tony said smugly "She just defected after a certain trusty intel fell into her hands like say the murder of her parents by the government among other atrocities. She's bound to have a few chips on her shoulder though so we need a little bit of work there."

Phil winced. He didn't have the heart to think about Howard Stark's murder and how Tony would react once he found out that it was no accident at all. Now he understood the magnitude of it all and the colossal task that Fury gave him. He really better not screw up and when Tony found out, his would be the first neck in the guillotine.

"Problem, Phil?"

He ruffled his papers. "Tony, she's barely 9 years old!"

The young child retrieved a remote from his pocket. "watch"

On the screen, a fragile looking child appeared unsure about her actions until the lights dimmed and she became a flurry of twirls and loops. He remembered this kid. She was the one who had broken records a few years back, how old was she then? The screen cut into the same red haired child with hardened green eyes in a marathon skating match, she was a blur.

"Quick, agile, that's what we need. She'll be here in a few hours and she'll be nine in a week or so, keep her trail cold, Phil. You'll never know if there's an assassin on her trail and can you swing by the airport? She's a minor after all."

"Like you." Phil said under his breath.

"Next up," Tony snapped his fingers "Thor Odinson, son of His Royal Highness Odin of Norway."

"What a list you're creating. Princes and Princesses, write a storybook already."

"I love your wit, Coulson. Thor Odinson is a very capable athlete, all of thirteen years old, accomplished Polo player, hockey fan, horseshoe champion."

"I don't see how being a horse shoe champion contributes to being an invaluable member of the team."

"accuracy is everything."

That was true. Thor had a bigger built than most kids his age, this was a wise choice. "I don't know how we could convince him to come to our part of the world though."

"Already taken cared of." Tony waved his hand. "He'll arrive tomorrow afternoon, I assume that you are familiar with royal protocol?"

"Yes."

"Great, you won't miss him, he'll be flying in a rainbow jet. He's quite down to earth and likeable, not at all snooty."

"I'm on it." He'll be the judge of that. "Anything else?"

Tony looked at him. "Get some sleep, Agent. You look like a scolded puppy."

Phil cleared his throat. "Young man, I am not a scolded puppy."

Tony captured a photo of his that very moment and brought it up on screen with a photo of a sad golden retriever. "You're right, you're two degrees away from looking like a scolded old dog."

"At least the dog has hair." He tried to inject humour in the situation.

Tony smiled. For the first time, he looked like any other annoying twelve year old. "I like you, Phil."

"Great to know, kid. I'll be in touch." He walked off practicing his Fury swagger until he was met with solid wood doors that would not budge.

"Here's the code." Tony handed him a slip of paper and pointed to the numerical lock. "Thanks, Phil."


End file.
